


Good Fences

by MrsHamill



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, Implied Slash, M/M, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-01
Updated: 2002-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The resident of apartment 207 talks about his upstairs neighbors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Fences

**Author's Note:**

> This is NOT a happy fic. I've often wondered what the guys would look like to an outsider who wasn't a member of the Ellison/Sandburg cheering team. For Christi for helping me work out where it was going and for giving me the title.

* * *

You know, it was okay when Ellison first moved in, he was quiet, and was out a lot. Even when he married that tall redhead, what's-her-name, they didn't stay home much, and when they did, it was still peaceful. Quiet. But then he divorced her, or more likely she walked out on him, I don't know, and sure enough, that damn long-haired faggot hippie-boy moved in, playing his loud, weird music all the time, smoking foul stuff or burning some shit all the time.

All the neighbors are in collective rapture that a cop would want to live here; they don't care what the perverts do in there. Old lady Delacourt, she gives them cookies and crap all the time, thinks they're cute. They're faggots, fucking 'ho-mo-sex-u-als' and I don't care if they're both cops now, a degenerate is a degenerate and those two are the worst...

Look. I'm old now, I've lived here in 207 for years. I like it here, the rent's good, why should I move? I've lived here longer than them. _They_ should move. _They_ should try to find a place that'll cater to their little perversions. Moaning and groaning all the damn time. Makes me want to vomit. Them and their little pet names. God, how I hate them.

Then, this latest thing, waking me up _again_ , drowning out the damn TV with their yelling and stomping... 

* * *

<door slams> Cannot believe you, man! How long has this been going on? 

<indistinct mumble, thud of shoes hitting floor> I said since the academy, okay? Now get off my back! 

Hell no! <feet stomping, refrigerator door opening and slamming> You've had them down since... what... shit. You've had them off, haven't you? You've had them turned all the way fucking off! 

So what? It was safer that way, Simon was being a mother hen and goddammit, I'm so sick and tired of being goddammed coddled and mothered every which way I turn... <voices move around, thudding of sock-clad feet pacing>

The way you've been behaving, you'd better get used to it. 

Fuck you! 

You asshole! You think I _like_ running your life? You can be such a surly goddamned son-of-a-bitch and now something like this happens... You could have been killed! You could have gotten... 

Would you just _drop it_ already?! 

_No!_ I won't! 

You're like a fucking dog with a bone, Sandburg, and I'm sick of it. Yes, I had the dials turned down, so Simon would let me out on the street! All it did was make me a regular, normal cop for a change. What's so fucking bad about that? 

Because you don't have to do that now! Jesus! You didn't have to do it then either! 

And who decided that? Huh? <thud of body hitting sofa or chair> Between you and Simon, Christ, you'd think I haven't been a cop for years before all this Sentinel shit. How'n'hell are you going to learn how to be a cop if your partner can't act like a cop once in a while? Huh? Answer me that, Einstein! 

What?! What the hell...? 

Look. You want me to rely on these damn senses, well, that's fine as far as it goes. But shit! Being a cop is more than that, Chief! And I'm sorry, but I was a damn fine cop before all this shit started up again. 

<huge muffled thud and scraping noise, as if a body hit a chair or sofa hard> You're a damn fine cop NOW! Where is all this coming from? 

Shut up and listen for a minute and you might find out! You took firearms, you tested out of stuff, but dammit, there's more to police work than that. 'Real' police work. How are you going to learn the stuff I learned from Jack... from me... if I've forgotten how to do it? 

<silence for a long time> You're over-reacting. 

So YOU say. 

But... but you said, I'm already the best cop you know. You SAID it, Jim. 

Instinct isn't enough, Sandburg. You got the instinct of a cop, you got the moves. But there's more than just book learning there, Chief, believe it or not there's actual sweat involved. 

That... that is the most patronizing... 

Chief... 

Disgusting... 

Sandburg... 

I cannot believe you! Where did this come from? How long have you been hiding this? I thought you were going to try to do better, thought you were going to tell me these things. I thought we'd agreed to that, man. 

YOU thought that, Sandburg. YOU did. Can't you stop with the talking shit -- it's a constant pick pick pick with you... I am who I am... why do you keep expecting me to change for you? You knew who I was when you got involved with me, I can only do so much, Goddammit. I'm not like you, Sandburg! I'm me. 

I never expected you to be anything other than yourself, Jim. I just wanted... 

You wanted me to turn into you! 

No! 

Yes! Admit it, Sandburg. Ellison is standing here right in front of you. Ellison, the throwback, remember? To pre-civilized man? <thump of feet pacing> Why are you constantly amazed that I don't fit your lofty standards? Why can't YOU accept ME as I am? 

<sound of feet thudding> I DO accept you as you are! 

You do NOT! "Tell me what you're feeling, Jim" "Talk to me, Jim" all the damn time, and goddammit, I can't DO THAT. I DON'T do that! 

What, so you're saying I should just accept your inner asshole and move on? I don't think so! Who seduced who here? 

Oh, fuck you, Sandburg! Don't you turn this around -- again -- and make it all my fault! You lived with me for years, you knew what you were getting into. 

And I'd hoped that Ellison the lover would be a damn sight better than Ellison the asshole, looks like I was mistaken. 

You goddamned little prick. You hate it that much, fine. There's the door. Don't let it hit you on your way out. 

<long silence>

<feet thudding, miscellaneous crashing noises>

<stomping to the front door, creak of door being opened>

<long silence>

<door slams>

* * *

... So, no, I wasn't too upset about this latest yelling match. At least I didn't have to hear no panting and groaning. I was pretty pissed at first, I mean, it was late when they came home, and they was stomping around and yelling fit to wake the dead. But before I could start banging on the ceiling, I realized they were mad at each other, that Ellison had done something to piss off his little girlie-man. Jesus Christ, you have to wonder who wears the pants up there -- but they way they go at it, maybe neither of them do. Fucking perverts. 

So now it's quiet, they're not speaking to each other, hell, I haven't seen the little long-haired freak in a couple of days. Maybe they'll break up, maybe their idyllic little love-nest will finally end. Maybe they'll move out, one will, anyway, which is better than nothing. Ellison is usually pretty quiet when the little faggot is not around.

...Or maybe, they'll just put bullets in each others brains. Isn't that what these 'touchy-feely' types do, anyway? Serve 'em right. A couple less perverts in the world couldn't hurt.

One can always hope.

end


End file.
